


No Rest for the Blessed

by LittleWhiteTie



Series: Whump Bingo [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Whump, M/M, More tags to be added, Multi, Nightmares, Shiro (Voltron) Whump, Sickfic, Whump, prompt fills, self-indulgence at its finest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWhiteTie/pseuds/LittleWhiteTie
Summary: A series of ficlets based on whump prompts.1. The paladins build a blanket nest for Keith, but he's afraid to fall asleep. (Keith/Shiro)2. Shiro has a fever. Allura's stuck on nurse duty. (Shiro/Allura)





	1. Nightmares (Keith/Shiro)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buttered_onions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttered_onions/gifts).



> Prompt fills for [whump bingo](http://bosstoaster.tumblr.com/post/171679722487/how-about-we-play-a-game-inspired-by-this-post). Characters/pairings courtesy of buttered_onions--you can blame her for this. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The paladins build a blanket nest for Keith, but he's afraid to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: D3. Scared or ashamed to sleep because of their nightmares, especially around others (Keith/Shiro)

“Sorry. Count me out,” Keith says, as soon as he catches a glimpse of the giant nest of blankets and pillows occupying the centre of the common room.

The mass of bedding is a jumble of different colours and shapes and sizes—a feat in itself, given the uniformity of everything on the Castle. It’s been carefully arranged, not a pillow out of place.

He feels a twinge of regret for declining, especially when the faces around him fall. His first night back, and he’s already let them down.

“Wait, what?” Lance asks, like he can’t possibly have heard correctly.

“It looks great. Really,” Keith says, softening his tone. “But I’m just gonna sleep in my own room tonight.”

“But—but why?” Pidge asks.

“It’s reeeally comfy,” Hunk says, waggling his eyebrows. “Pidge and I spent at _least_ a varga optimizing the pillow to blanket ratio.”

“You really didn’t have anything better to do?” Keith asks, evading.

“They were excited for your return,” Allura justifies, with a small smile. “We all were.”

Shiro nods, his hand meeting Keith’s shoulder. “We’ve missed you. It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Keith says, automatically, echoing words they exchanged a year ago now. A year back when Keith’s losses had brought only grief, and not guilt. A year before he was Atlas, with the universe set on his incompetent shoulders.

“If you really think that, then come join us,” Lance insists.

“C’mon,” Pidge says. “How can you possibly resist a perfectly constructed pillow fort?”

“I just… don’t feel like it,” Keith says, because he’s never been good at making up excuses.

“But we worked so hard on it,” Hunk says. His lip starts to quiver, and Keith’s resolve starts to cave.

“It’s been tried and tested, second to none,” Lance says, in a desperate sales pitch. “You’ll have the best sleep of your life, guaranteed.”

Pidge tugs at his hand, bright eyes wide. “Stay. Please?”

“…Fine,” Keith says, giving in. He’s tired, but he’ll manage to stay awake. He does it all the time. It’ll be fine.

 

 

It turns out he’s more exhausted than he thought.

Lights out, tucked into the middle of the nest, the slow, rhythmic breathing of the paladins around him is unbearably calming. The relief of knowing they’re alright tempts him with sleep, whispering to him he can _relax_.

(He can’t. He can’t. He can’t.)

While the blankets and pillows are plush and cozy, the arrangement of bodies isn’t comfortable at all: Pidge’s bony ankle digs into his calf, his shoulder is squished into Hunk’s side, Lance’s sharp elbow presses into his ribcage, Allura’s arm is slung too close to his neck, and Shiro’s metal grip around his waist is too tight. It’s not comfortable, and yet he finds his eyes struggling to stay open all the same.

He tries shifting his limbs—not enough to wake the others, but enough to keep his body from settling into place. He clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms; he bites his lower lip and chews at the inside of his cheeks. He tries to engage his mind, pushing himself to find battle plans and strategies that end in knowledge and not death.

Nothing works. He starts to drift. Old phantoms start to creep into his skull; failures upon failures start to loop behind his eyelids.

“No,” he says to himself, in the barest of whispers. “Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.”

But despite his pleas, sleep eventually takes him.

He falls asleep, and he loses, and loses, and loses.

 

 

Keith wakes with a strangled cry. His face is wet with tears and cold sweat, his breaths shaky between sobs he can’t stop.

He flinches away from the arm around his shoulders: how can anyone touch him, when everyone he reaches for turns to ash or thin air?

“Keith.”

Shiro.

He’s safe. He’s alive.

Keith can’t help himself and leans back into the touch, greedily seeking the reassurance. He presses against what’s not a ghost, a body solid and warm and breathing.

“I lost you,” Keith chokes out, unable to repress the words any more than his sobs. “I always lose you.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro whispers. His flesh hand finds Keith’s back, soothing as it moves over bone and muscle, drifting down his spine.

“I didn’t find you in time,” Keith says, shuddering against him. “I didn’t move fast enough.”

“But you did,” Shiro says, pulling Keith in closer. “I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Keith says, “but so many others aren’t. S-so many aren’t, because of my mistakes. I-I could’ve saved them, and I didn’t. They just—they just keep dying.”

“I know,” Shiro murmurs. It’s the best he can say.

A few more sobs are muffled by Shiro’s skin, before the quiet of everything else hits him. The absence of soft snoring tells him they’re no longer in the common room. “We moved,” he says, dumbly.

“I brought you back to my room,” Shiro explains. “You were having a nightmare. I figured you wouldn’t want the others to hear or see.”

“…Thanks,” Keith breathes.

“Trust me. I understand.”

Keith rests his cheek against Shiro’s collarbone. He’s tired, so tired, but… “I don’t want to fall asleep again,” he admits, in a small voice. “I’m scared.”

Shiro shifts so he can look Keith in the eyes. Careful metal fingers wipe the tears away, smudging tear tracks. “You’re not alone,” Shiro says.

His honesty breaks the dam, and words flow forth unbidden.

“It happens every night,” Keith says, tears spilling over again. “I’m too scared to sleep, too scared to wake up alone, and others—others are dying because of it. I can’t concentrate, and my mistakes get people killed. The dreams get worse, and it just—it just spirals. …Kolivan benched me,” he admits, ashamed. “Sent me back here, until I can get it under control.”

“I know,” Shiro says, softly.

“…You do?”

“Kolivan told us you haven’t been sleeping well. He asked if we could help,” Shiro says. “The others thought a pillow fort might help. They didn’t want you to have to sleep alone.”

“Oh,” is all Keith can think to say. “I… I guess we should go back, then.” He doesn’t particularly want to—even if the others know about the nightmares, it doesn’t mean he wants an audience. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to disappoint them, doesn’t want to stomp all over their efforts like he’d tried to earlier.

“We can if you want,” Shiro says. “But the others wouldn’t notice if we just stayed here, and snuck back to the common room in the morning.”

Something hopeful blooms in Keith’s chest, leaving him dizzy and weightless. “You’ll… you’ll stay with me until then?”

“Of course,” Shiro assures him. He lies back down and pulls Keith flush against him, his arms wrapped around him in the strongest, gentlest hold. “I can’t promise you won’t have another bad dream, but I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“…Okay,” Keith whispers; it’s enough. “Thanks, Shiro.”

Shiro presses his lips to Keith’s forehead in response, promising they’ll get through this, one night at a time.

Keith’s eyes start to close again, and this time, he doesn’t resist.


	2. Temperature (Shiro/Allura)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro has a fever. Allura's stuck on nurse duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: B2. Touching their head and feeling their own temperature rise (Shiro/Allura)

“Get away from me,” Shiro gasps, uncoordinated limbs lashing out. Allura barely dodges his metal arm as it takes a desperate, clumsy swing.

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” Allura says. “But I’m not leaving until you drink this. Please. It will make you feel better.”

“Don’t lie,” he growls. He’s weak, febrile—eyes glassy, cheeks flushed—but he manages to put on a threatening air all the same.

“I’m not lying, Shiro,” Allura says, keeping her voice steady. “You haven’t been getting enough fluids. If you are able to keep it down, I really do think it will help.”

She brings the cup of oral rehydration solution closer—a pink concoction, sweet and salty. He goes stock still, letting her approach. And then, when she’s close enough, he smacks the cup out of her hand. Its contents splash over his sheets and blanket before it clatters to the floor, sticky liquid pooling around it.

Allura bites back a curse and forces down her frustration, willing her facial muscles to relax. She’s been trying to get him to drink the quiznaking solution for the better part of a varga. She wishes someone else could take her place—someone with more patience for this sort of thing—but with her non-human physiology, and Coran busy searching for a cure, she’s the one stuck on nurse duty.

She lets out a slow exhale as she bends down to retrieve the cup from the sticky puddle. She carries it across the room, where a matching pitcher sits on a floating tray, and refills it. “Shiro, _please,”_ she says.

“No,” he says, eyes wild. “No more experiments.”

She returns to his bed with the replenished cup, bringing the tray with her and setting it closer within reach. “Experiments? Hunk has already finished experimenting with the flavour. Lance and Pidge tested and approved it before I brought it to you.”

His eyes widen, before narrowing into a glare. “They—they’re not here. They’re safe. Away from _you_.”

A pang lances through Allura's chest, sharp and jagged. “I’m not going to hurt you, Shiro. I promise. I would never hurt you or any of the others,” she says. “I’m… I’m sorry you’re left with me, but the others can’t come visit you, not when they’re susceptible to contracting your illness. ...If you wish to speak with them, we can set up a call when they are back from the field. Would you like that?”

“Don’t,” he snarls. “I know your tricks. Mind games. Not falling for them.”

Allura sets the cup down and pushes the tray aside. She frowns. “Shiro, do you know who I am? Do you know where we are?”

He holds his tongue in a moment of defiance, before he averts his gaze. “High Priestess Haggar. Laboratory,” he says, quietly.

“Oh, Shiro, no.” Understanding washes over her, replacing the sting in her chest with a deep, sympathetic ache. It reinvigorates her voice with patience and warmth. “Not Haggar; just Allura. It’s just the two of us here. We’re in your room, aboard the Castle. Haggar and her laboratory are far, far away. You’re safe here.”

Shiro’s brow furrows as he struggles to piece it together. “A-Allura?”

“Yes,” she says. “Yes, it’s only me.” Gently, she places her hand over his—the one still made of bone and flesh and skin—so he can feel her touch. “See? No claws. I won’t do you any harm.”

“But… but you were _her_. You… you shape-shifted? To h-her. But—but no one else is here, and you know I…” He shudders. Hurt shines in his glazed eyes. “Why?” he whispers. “Why would you—”

“Shiro, I would never,” she says, vehemently shaking her head. “I would never do such a thing to hurt you. You saw her because you were hallucinating. You have a very high fever.”

“…Fever?”

“Yes,” she says. “Here. Feel my skin.” She takes his human hand and brings it to her cheek, allowing the back of his hand to make contact for a few ticks. “Now yours.” She guides his hand to his own, warmer face, to compare.

“Oh,” he says, noticing the drastic rise in temperature. “Fever.”

“Yes. You—“

She’s interrupted by an incoming call. She pulls up the screen and scoots closer to Shiro, angling it so he can see as well.

“Keith,” Shiro says as Keith’s face appears, red armour tinted purple in the glow of the Black Lion’s interior lights.

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith says, in that soft tone reserved only for him. Keith’s gaze flits from place to place as he keeps an eye on his surroundings; the distinctive sounds of lasers fire in the background. “How’re you holding up?”

“Fever,” Shiro says.

“Yeah,” Keith says, gritting his teeth and tilting to the right as he swerves in the Lion. “I’m sorry. I wish you were feeling better.”

“Been worse,” Shiro says.

Keith winces. “Yeah. I’ll call you later, Shiro, okay? Right now, Allura, we could use your help out here. There’re more ships than we were expecting.”

“I’m on my way,” Allura says, ending the transmission. She pushes off the bed and gets to her feet.

“Voltron?” Shiro asks.

“Voltron,” Allura confirms. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you right now, but I have to go help the others.”

Shiro nods. “It’s okay. I’m… I’m in my room, in the Castle. Haggar isn’t here. I’m safe,” he recites.

“Yes. Precisely. I’ll be back soon,” she says.

She leans down and gently sweeps his sweat-damp bangs from his eyes. She’s about to remind him to drink his solution, when he pulls her forward and presses his burning lips to hers in a clumsy kiss.

Her eyes go wide and her heart judders, left beating twice as fast when he breaks contact. All her words leave her; she’s stunned into silence.

“I’ve just… always wanted to do that,” he murmurs.

“I—Shiro—“ she stutters.

He takes her hand and presses the back of it against his hot forehead. “Fever,” he reminds her. “…You can pretend it was that, if you want.”

Does she want that? They’re in the middle of a war. It’s not good timing. And yet…

She reaches for the cup and presses it into his hands, curling his fingers around it. “Finish your drink, then get some rest,” she says, softly. “I’ll be back when you wake up.” She gives him a smile before she leaves—one he returns, weak but genuine.

When she reaches the hall, she traces her lower lip with her fingertips. The searing heat still lingers.

Maybe, she thinks, nurse duty isn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I write and draw things on [twitter](https://twitter.com/littlewhitetie), [tumblr](https://littlewhitetie.tumblr.com), and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/littlewhitetie). My inbox is always open to prompts. Come say hi!


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